Silver-Grey
by oneiromancer242
Summary: AU for a reader prompt. Erik enrols his metallokinetic son at the Academy, expecting Charles to Mentor him himself. The Professor, however, has other plans as to who would be best to guide the troubled Mutant teen toward controlling his powers and himself. This story contains content which requires a trigger warning. Stay safe :-) xx
1. Prologue

**A/N : A reader request from RedHood001. This is simply a short teaser - hope it helps you look forward to more!**

 **Prologue**

"Can we expect any more of your brood to join us, Erik?" Charles asked without malice, handed the glass of scotch he had poured to his old friend. The slight quirk of a smile, the closest he got to humour, as he took the drink and shook his head.

"Perhaps his younger sister, one day" he replied, "But aside from that, no. Just Peter for now"

Charles studied him for a long moment, did not pry into his thoughts – knew from long habit that Erik would block him – but instead read the strange mix of emotion that coloured his face. Was that guilt he saw there? Regret?

"I take it he's been having trouble at normal schools"

"Expelled" Erik said grimly, took a drink, "He fights a great deal. Doesn't make friends, very good at making enemies"

"Taking after his father I see" Charles remarked, followed it with a smile that did not dissuade Erik from glaring at him, "Well, it's not uncommon for boys growing up without a father to become troubled in their teens. And he does have a powerful Mutation to contend with"

"Will you train him yourself?" Erik asked, "One telekinetic to another? As you did for me?"

"No. I don't think so. Our personalities are… at odds, shall we say. He's very wilful, Erik, and at present at least there is a great deal of anger in him that I don't think I'm best placed to deal with"

"Who then?"

"I was thinking of Jean"

"Jean Grey?!" Erik burst out, set his drink down hard, "She's only a girl! What can she do that you can't?"

"Understand" Charles kept his voice even, "It's a shame you don't get on with her, Erik. You have a great deal in common"

"And you're going to saddle her with Peter? He's dangerous, Charles!"

"Of course he's dangerous." The telepath replied, "He's your son."


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N : A brief note on timing here: I'm setting this in 1987, as I like that era of Jean and she'll be in this a lot, but in this AU Peter is 17 that year. Basically, everything's shifted ten years into the future.**

 **1**

Children had never been part of Erik's plan. They didn't fit in his life's work, were at best an impediment. He had not meant to fall briefly, painfully in love with Magda Maximoff, any more than he had intended to get her pregnant. What he had meant was to leave well alone after that. Magda, however, had other plans – and an uncanny knack for tracking him down. Erik supposed he should be glad she wasn't working with any of his many enemies, so easily did she home in on him and harass him for support, to come see the twins he'd fathered, to come back and visit. If the first time had been an unfortunate accident, the second – a visit back to Washington, to see the twins and give them at least some inkling that they had a father somewhere – had been a tragedy. A vodka-soaked, sweaty tragedy which had culminated a month later when Magda had tracked him down again and told him her news. The woman was only pregnant yet again.

No, children weren't in the plan. Especially not this one, who was as moody and irritable as it was possible for any seventeen-year-old boy to be. Scruffy and obnoxious, constantly with headphones covering his ears, oblivious to the outside world and rude when he did decide to contribute to it. At present sat in one of the antique chairs outside Charles's study kicking his feet restlessly against the legs. Erik grabbed one of his headphones away, spoke sharply

"Stop that immediately! Those chairs are worth a lot of money"

Peter gave him a challenging stare, but stilled his legs. He'd had enough clips around the ear by now to know to do as he was told. Chewed on a wedge of bubblegum for a minute or two before saying

"So am I enrolled or what?"

"Yes. And I would like to think you'll learn some manners once you're around your own kind – certainly some humility"

Peter rolled his eyes, chuckled humourlessly, set his head on one side to give his father a sceptical glance.

"Humility?" he spat, "Really? Whenever you've actually bothered to be around all you ever told me was how superior I am, how we're gonna rule the world one day. How Mutants are the future. Now you want me to be humble all of a sudden? Make up your damn mind"

Erik clenched his hands into fists, refused to strike the boy no matter how insolent he was, refused to give him the gratification of knowing he'd got under his father's skin. Though he was capable of graciousness, even of being charming and with an overall sweet disposition, Peter was never anything but moody where Erik was concerned. Never had been, from the moment he realised his father would not stay.

"Superiority has to be earned," he told his son in a fierce hiss, "You're here to learn to control yourself. I suggest you start immediately"

"Are you done?" Peter asked, "Any more lecturing to come? No? Good"

He stood, one hand on the handle of the study door. Glanced up in surprise as he felt his father's hand on his shoulder.

"Peter…." Erik said softly, "I'm sorry. I –"

"No you're not" the boy snapped back, "You're never sorry. And don't come over all affectionate on me. You make me want to puke when you do that"

Another moment and the door had closed in Erik's face. He certainly hoped Jean – and Charles – knew what they were in for.

As luck would have it, Jean had no classes that afternoon, available to take Peter for a tour around the Academy and show him to his room. He hadn't needed telling to be polite to her, immediately struck by the threat in her icy eyes, the set lips that brooked no rudeness. The distrust that virtually radiated out of her. Even the sweetest, kindest of his smiles had not brought more than a fleeting smile in return. Peter liked that – people who were too easily won over disgusted him somehow.

"Is this place old?" he asked, craned his neck back to examine the high vaulted ceiling, "It looks ancient"

"It's pretty old. Been in the Professor's family for a long time. There's a lot of rebuilding gone on though" at last a wry little smile at that, "The place tends to get damaged from time to time"

Peter turned back to look at her, that crooked smile pulling cheeky dimples into his cheeks. Jean thought she could get to like that smile.

"Cool" he grinned, "I like old stuff. Everything's new where I grew up. I hate it there"

"You hate it everywhere" she said without thinking. The cheeky smile fell, and she looked contrite and embarrassed, "Sorry… I'm a telepath. You pretty much broadcast that you think your life sucks"

"I do?" he asked. Jean almost sighed with relief that he didn't seem to have minded the intrusion, "Yeah well. It does"

"Maybe it'll suck a little less from now on"

That last smile from her looked warmer, more genuine, as if somehow she had thawed a little. Even Jean realised that wasn't like her – she took a long time to warm up, was innately private and insular, and yet he had taken her telepathic intrusion in his stride so naturally that she felt almost like just this once, she could make an exception to her rule of distrust.

"Well, this is your room" she said at last, "I only have one key, but if you want a spare, you can –"

She stopped as Peter gestured to the door and it swung open, gave her a sly wink

"Metallokinesis, remember?" he told her, "No lock can keep me out. Or in."

"Must come in handy" another of those warming smiles, "I'm on the floor below you if you need anything"

With that she had left him. Peter closed the door quietly behind her – using his hands, not his powers. Tell the truth, he didn't really know how he'd managed to unlatch the lock without simply pulling the whole mechanism through the wood, which is what usually happened to him when he tried that trick. He'd have to quit showing off like that, if he didn't want to start causing damage to this beautiful old house. Looking around the empty room, he suddenly felt a little homesick, a little like he'd rather be back in the room next to Wanda's. Put a lid on that feeling fast, and reminded himself that it was good to be away from all the trouble he was leaving behind.

It wasn't that Peter meant to get into fights – he really didn't – just that everybody was so stupid. So weak and pathetic compared to him and his family. His earlier accusations had been true – on those occasions his father had been around, he'd always lectured his children about the superiority of their race. As a younger boy, Peter had really taken that on board, ended up in a lot of scuffles with stupid human kids who dared to challenge his ego. When his powers had manifested themselves eventually, he'd been glad at first. Finally he had something in common with his Dad, finally something he thought he'd be proud of. Erik had always known his kids carried the X-gene, he'd had them all tested, but now that Peter could do what he could? He was sure his father would be proud.

Only it hadn't worked out that way. Instead of pride, Erik had immediately told him he had to learn control, to learn to use his gifts wisely. Had made him practice for hours on seemingly meaningless tests, more often than not leading to Peter yelling at him and stamping off to his room. Now he didn't get into scraps because of his superiority, but because he would fight anybody who crossed his path, and imagine it was his father he was beating bloody.

He'd unpacked his few belongings, stowed them away in the drawers, lay down to stretch out for a while, before he'd really started to feel how far away from his mother and sisters he was. All the way across the country, really. Still, it was this or Reform School, and at least here he had half a chance at fitting in. And there was that girl, of course. Peter pushed his homesick thoughts away, tried to think instead of the pretty redhead who had shown him around, and to look forward to seeing her again.


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N : This chapter definitely needs a TRIGGER WARNING - because if you thought the main-universe Peter's self-harm was bad, this one's even more screwed up, poor little guy :-(**

2

Perched cross-legged in her desk chair, Jean tried hard to concentrate on her algebra homework. Pen scratching across the paper in front of her, book held floating in front of her eyes, she certainly looked like she was studying hard, but in truth her thoughts were wandering. The book fell with a hard thump onto the floor as she was startled by a knock on her open door, turned to see her classmate there.

"Knock knock" Scott said, leaned into the room a little, "You busy?"

"A little.. I … well, I'm trying to do this but…" she sighed, smiled at the boy, "It's not going so well"

"I know right? This class is going to kill me, I just know it"

Without invitation, he had stepped into the room, stood with his hands in his pockets, those ruby-quartz shades hiding his eyes but not his thoughts. He seemed even more nervous than usual. Scott was one of the few people who could step into her room without her getting immediately mad at them – Jean really didn't like having her space invaded.

"So, what's the new kid like?" Scott asked innocently. Jean laughed, bent to pick up her fallen textbook, gave him a look

"Oh so you didn't really want to see me at all?" she asked, arched an eyebrow, "Just curious about our new arrival"

"No! I did! I mean I do!" Scott protested, "But yeah… sort of"

"He's nice" she said simply. Rethought and said, "Well OK, he's not nice, but he's interesting. He'll be joining our classes so you'll get to meet him soon enough"

"Is it true? I heard he was… y'know.."

"Magneto's son?" she asked, "Yes. It's true. But don't hold it against him, Scott. You never know how people are going to turn out"

Scott gave her a dubious smile. Though the girl was prickly at times, private and even a little temperamental, she really did try to find the good in people. Even if those people had a pedigree that included someone who had once been imprisoned in the Pentagon. It was one of the qualities Scott liked most about her, internally wished he wasn't so shy and that he was able to just move beyond the friendship they had built and admit how much he liked her. Just at the moment though, that seemed out of the question – especially now she had a protégé to train, she'd be far too busy to even notice the way Scott longed for her. Even now she was flicking through the textbook ready to get back on with her homework, putting pay to Scott's idea of asking her to come hang out.

"You study way too hard" he told her, tried to say it lightly but couldn't help the disappointment in his voice, "I'll never tear you away from those books will I?"

"Probably not" she admitted with a smile, "I have to finish this – I should go spend some time with Peter later on. The new kid, that's his name. Peter Maximoff"

Scott tried hard not to let his disappointment show. Hadn't even met the guy, but already felt a little jealous of Peter for how much of Jean's time and attention he would be getting. Hoped he deserved it. Left her in peace to go attempt his own homework and try not to think of her spending time with another guy.

Peter wasn't in his room, when she'd gone to find him, the door left unlocked and open a crack, but the boy himself nowhere in sight. Walking back down to the common room, hoping he'd gone to meet some of the others, before she had turned a corner and almost walked straight into him, jumping back with a little jolt.

"Peter! I was looking for you!" she exclaimed, pushed her hair back, tried to cover her surprise, "Are you ok?"

"Umm… yeah… a little lost" he offered her another of those cheeky smiles, "This place is huge"

"It is. But you'll get your bearings soon enough. I was wondering if you wanted to come see the training area we'll be using?"

Peter hesitated, looked about to agree, until his stomach had growled loudly. He gave Jean an embarrassed smile, seeing her laugh slightly at him. Damn but she was beautiful when she laughed, breaking through his embarrassment to warm his heart.

"Or we could go get something to eat" she grinned, "There's a good hot dog place nearby, if you like that?"

"Anything." He agreed immediately, pressed a hand to his belly as it emitted another ferocious noise, "Should have eaten on the plane, I guess"

"Ugh, airline food though" she said, surprised at herself. This degree of friendliness really wasn't like her, but the boy seemed to shine with a weird air of ill-ease and vulnerability, making her want to treat him kindly and try to relieve some of the stress of being in a new place surrounded by strangers. He had the strangest aura she had ever sensed, swirling with ever-changing patterns of anger and fear and emergent waves of shy awkwardness that stood out in stark contrast. It was fascinating as much as it was frightening.

They had eaten sitting in the sunshine on a grassy patch of park, not said much between them, didn't feel like they needed to. Jean watched him polish off a third jumbo-dog and lay back in the grass with a sigh of contentment, pull a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offer her one. She waved it away

"You sure can eat," she remarked, "must have been starving"

Peter gave her a regretful smile, lay back and smoked, his relaxed posture betrayed by the trouble she could feel in his mind.

"Guess so," he said quietly. Glanced over at her "you ever keep eating even when you're not hungry anymore, because it makes you feel better?"

"I think everyone does sometimes" she said softly, watched him roll to prop himself on one elbow, smoking in silence, struggling to meet her eyes.

"I suppose. I know I shouldn't, really, but…" he hesitated. Finished his cigarette and immediately lit another, "Can I tell you something? I mean I don't know why, we just met and all, but…."

"Of course," Jean told him. She felt gently for the edges of his mind, tried to soothe the blackness there, "You can trust me"

He didn't say anything for a long while, and when he did speak it was in a quiet tone, even a little shaky. Jean felt shame and pain in his mind, wanted to take his hand, contented herself with continuing to stroke at the borders of his mind.

"This one time, when my Dad had come to visit then just left again, I just got so mad with him, felt so angry and sad and empty and just… crazy, so I thought a snack might make me feel better. Went down to the kitchen and ended up eating this whole big cheesecake on top of a huge dinner. Obviously I felt really ill after that, so…" he paused, lit yet another cigarette, "So I went and made myself throw up, and that felt…. Great. Like all the feelings were coming out with all the food. It's gross, I know, but… it really made me feel better"

Jean said nothing. Reached and grasped more tightly to the trembling aura, let him gather his thoughts.

"I did that a lot, for a while. Got up at night, ate everything I could find – my Mom never noticed, my little sister Lorna's a huge eater, so she always just thought it was her – and then went and threw my guts up. I'm sorry – I know that's totally disgusting…."

"It's okay," this time, she did reach for his hand. Lay her fingers gently on top of his, "It's not disgusting. You're not the only person around who ever tried to eat their feelings. Do you still?"

He shrugged, shook his head

"Tryin' to stop it" he muttered, "Been a couple months now. Started getting bad bellyaches all the time, figured I'd better quit. That and it's just completely horrible, and it only helps for a while. Still want to though, when I'm upset. I don't know why I just told you that – I never told anyone"

"Sometimes, we tell people things because we need to" Jean favoured him with a bright, genuine smile, "I won't tell anyone else, I promise. I supposed that's why the Professor matched us up – he knew you'd talk to me"

"Sure," Peter gave her a sad, lopsided smile, "But that doesn't explain how I knew you'd listen."

"Always" she told him, "You going to carrying on trying to stop?"

He nodded, shifted his hand a little to grasp her fingers lightly

"If you help."


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N : For those who have been asking, Peter's powers in this AU very much resemble those of Polaris in the main universe. Wanda's are the same, and as for little Lorna? Well...**

3

He couldn't get her off his mind. That sweet, heart-shaped face that glowed without any make-up to hide her natural beauty, the smattering of freckles over her nose, the very slight upward tilt of the corners of her eyes that lent her a graceful feline look. All that was just surface though – a pretty package to put something far more beautiful in. If Peter had found her lovely before, he was absolutely besotted now. Not in the hormonal teenage way that he was besotted with Victoria's Secrets models, but a weird heart-pounding mouth-drying way that though it felt a lot like being terrified was not at all unpleasant. Over the past couple of days, when she had shepherded him around his classes and tried to introduce him to everyone, seemed to know instinctively when he really needed to just not speak and protected him from conversations at those times, he had grown to realise that someone really was willing to look out for him. Even though he'd given her no reason to, had in fact made the most disgusting confession of his life to her within hours of meeting, Jean still didn't seem repelled by him. It made a nice change.

The other kids were okay too – surprisingly so. Somehow he'd arrived and found himself as shy as he had been on his first day of school, before all the anger and resentment had set in, before he'd started getting into fistfights and spending so much of his time in the Principle's office. Most of them approached with caution, didn't overstay their welcome. Took in the habitually slumped shoulders and the shaggy, uncombed silver hair that hid most of his downcast face, and didn't push him – just made it clear he was welcome. Even without Jean as his guardian angel, Peter felt like none of them would have been anything but respectful. He still stayed close by her though, especially when their morning classes had ended and he'd had to brave the chaos of the lunch hall, no sooner settled beside her with their trays when a friendly voice from behind him had said;

"I *love* that jacket! Is that Viv Westwood?"

The owner of the voice sat down with her own tray – a petite, Asian-looking girl with pigtails and hoop earrings, stuck out her hand to Peter

"I'm Jubilee" she said, "So c'mon I have to know! Is that real Westwood?"

Peter stammered stupidly, shook his head, shrugged

"I dunno… I got it from a thrift store. Maybe."

"It's gorgeous. Not everyone can carry off all-black you know, especially not in summer, but you totally work it!"

"Jubilee is our arbiter of high fashion" Jean explained, "It's OK, I don't know who Viv Westwood is either"

"That can't be all you're having" Jubilee told him, indicated the undressed salad on his tray, "Dude, the food's free, you may as well make the most of it!

Jean cringed, felt Peter's panic suddenly spike, jumped to his rescue

"Peter's a little shy, Ju-ju" she told the girl, "Who feels like eating when they're new, huh?"

"Ohhh you just got here?!" the girl had laid a hand on his arm, Jean could feel the panic spike again, "Well welcome to the Academy then! I'm sure you'll have a great time!"

In her enthusiasm, Jubilee had not noticed that the metal trays in front of them had begun very gently vibrating, the cutlery on the table jangling, even the metal-capped cruet set sent dancing slightly. She noticed, however, when one of her hoops had worked itself free and clattered onto the table-top.

"Peter… it's alright, calm down" Jean was saying. Reached to brush Jubilee's hand off his arm. She could see beads of sweat standing on his brow, a look of threatened panic in his eyes, "Jubilee's just very friendly, Peter, she doesn't mean any harm – listen to me, come on. Relax"

In a minute or two, the trays had begun to still. Jubilee looked horror-struck

"I'm so sorry… you really are shy. Do you want me to go?"

He shook his head. Jean could see under the curtain of messy hair that he was biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. No wonder he'd been given to her to mentor, he seemed almost as powerful as his father, but as yet he had next to no control over it, his emotions ruling him and striking out.

They had somehow passed the rest of their lunch hour without further incident, parting ways with Jubilee. Instead of up to the next class, however, Jean had guided Peter back to his room.

"Are we cutting class?" he asked. His voice was wavery again, "Why?"

"Peter, you really need to learn fast to get a grip on your power" she said firmly. Took a chance and brushed the hair out of his face so she could look at him, "You could hurt someone. You could hurt yourself. I want to spend the afternoon with you – you need it more than either of us need science class"

She had pushed open the door, let him take a seat on the bed and perched in a chair. He still hadn't really made the room his own – no posters, no ornaments, nothing but his second pair of Converse sitting under the bed to betray that anybody lived here. He didn't speak for a long time, only leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and dragged both hands through his hair. She could see and feel him struggling to hold back angry tears.

"Peter…"

"Why can't I hold this back?!" he demanded suddenly, sounded hurt and furious, "Why do I even have this thing if I can't control it?!"

"None of us are born able to control our gifts" she said softly, "I couldn't – in fact I'm still learning to. I know it's hard, and I don't mean that you should always keep away from people, but if you're going to get stressed out like that, we need to do something"

"Like what?"

She thought, dug around in her pockets and came back with a couple of coins. Set one of them on the floor and came to sit in front of him.

"Come down here," she said gently, "Just opposite me"

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to try something. You have to trust me though. Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do" he answered honestly, though he knew that wasn't normal for him, "Trust myself, on the other hand?"

Jean smiled, let him sit down, then raised one hand. The coin floated gently off the floor, spinning slowly. She set it down again just as gently.

"See?" she said, "If you lose control, I can defend myself. You don't have to worry about hurting me with your power"

Peter understood, nodded and swallowed hard.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just talk to me. About anything you feel really bothers you. School, home – your Dad, anything. And while you do it, I want you to hold that coin still"

His first few attempts had been pretty awful, the coin shooting across the floor as soon as he had begun, Jean patiently retrieving it and setting it down again. After another incident of shooting it into a corner, Peter had slammed a fist into the floor in frustration

"I can't!" he told her, "I'm sorry Jean, I really can't!"

"Not right now, no" she replied, sought out his eyes with hers, "But you will. Don't give up"

"One last try" he said, "I'm tired"

"Go ahead. Just try"

"Okay…." he took a deep breath, "I hate my Dad. Not in a rebellious sort of way like all kids do, I really really honestly hate him. He thinks he's great, but all he does is hurt people – my sister, Wanda? She snuck a guy in one night. When Dad found out he slapped her over and over and made her swear she wouldn't do it anymore, that was his idea of caring. And when I got expelled, his idea of caring was shouting my Mom down until she let him enrol me here. I guess I should be grateful though, they were going to send me to Rookwood instead"

"The Reform School in Seattle?" Jean asked gently, "that would have been pretty hard on you"

"Yeah, and I'm glad I'm not there and all, but the way Dad was about it. It was like he thinks I'm worthless unless I learn to control stuff like he can, like the fact I can move metal with my mind is the only thing that matters about me. When I was little, I used to wish he was around more. Now I wish he never was"

At that, the coin flipped over and rolled under the bed. Peter sighed, frustrated, but Jean only smiled at him.

"You did well that time. Kept it controlled for a good long while" she beamed, "well done"

A little smile in response from him at that, a shrug. Getting to his feet and resuming his seat on the edge of the bed. Jean joined him, kept a respectful distance. Watched him for a while before she said

"See, Peter – it's not about controlling your power, not really. It's about controlling how you feel, instead of letting it control you. All that stuff you told me, I'm going to help you through it somehow. And the other thing, too"

"D'you mind?" he asked, a shy sideways look at her, "I mean – I'm kinda a mess"

"It'll be my pleasure" she told him. Saw the cheeky smile return, though his eyes looked wet, and couldn't help herself somehow. Turned and very softly put her arms around him and squeezed. He stiffened at first, then allowed it.

"You get some rest if you want" she said, pulled away from him, rose to her feet, "I'll see you for dinner, ok? And by the way, have more than a salad for lunch – you'll only be hungrier later otherwise"

He smiled again at her, had to admit she was right. Let her leave him and curled up on the bed for a while, so much effort over his powers having drained him a little. Couldn't stop thinking about how soft her hair had been against his face, how nice it was to be held. Dozed off for a little while and dreamed of her.


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N : THIS IS A HUGE TRIGGER WARNING**

 **Poor Peter :-(**

4

Glad that she had checked the dining hall before going to collect her pupil, Jean simply stood leaning against the wide doorway for a few minutes, watching him sat with Jubilee. The girl had found a quiet table for them, over toward the back, and though she seemed to be chatting away much as usual, there was none of her tactile friendliness in evidence. Jean was glad – she'd felt the panic and desire to withdraw when she had put her arms around Peter in her pride earlier on, caught a flash of fear that she meant to hurt him. Wondered how often he had been hurt, that it now made him shy away from any touch. She felt so sorry for him for that, could tell that under that fear there was a sweet boy who loved a hug, hoped she would be able to unearth him from under the rubble of pain that had fallen in. He was so like herself in a way, building high, thick walls to stop anybody knowing him too much, for fear that they would see how fragile and easy to harm he was under the stony façade of power. She watched a shy, small smile pull at his lips from across the room, though his eyes remained fixed on the table, hair fallen over his face. He used that lovely, wavy silver hair to hide behind so often – Jean supposed that was why he wore it so long and messy, to provide a barrier, just as his baggy plain black clothes and that lovely three-quarter black leather jacket Jubilee had liked so much did. One more layer of protection on top of the frail, easily hurt heart.

He wasn't bad-looking, even with how much he tried to conceal himself, Jean thought. If he would only brush his hair out of the way, he had a handsome, strong-boned face under there. Beautiful eyes, though she'd only seen them ever so briefly, large and so dark they were almost black. Lovely lips, and a beautiful smile – though he used it rarely, Jean suspected because of the chipped front tooth and slightly worn enamel. She wondered how tall he really was, so much did he hunch his shoulders and slump over, what sort of body he had under the loose black layers – he looked slim, but it was impossible to really tell. So caught up with watching him, Jean almost jumped as she felt a hand on her back, turned sharply to see Scott standing there.

"Hey – whoah, Jean!" he held up his palms innocently as she turned a glare on him, "I didn't mean to creep up on you!"

"You know I hate that" she said coldly, though she softened at the hurt look on the boy's face, "Sorry, Scott. I was just…"

"Admiring the new kid?" he asked cheekily, "I think you're out of luck there, Jubilee seems to be working her magic"

It was true – Peter did look as if he had relaxed just a little, though he stiffened back up as soon as he had seen Scott and Jean walking across to their table, gave the other boy a suspicious and unfriendly look before he had fixed his gaze back on the plate in front of him.

"Peter, right?" Scott said, took a seat, "You're in my Lit class – I'm Scott, we met earlier"

"I know who you are" Peter said quietly. Picked up his fork and started pushing his hardly-touched dinner around the plate. Jean noticed he'd gone for plastic cutlery this time, felt a little pang of hurt for him again. It was terrible to feel afraid of your own gift, as she well knew.

"Well aren't you friendly" Scott remarked sarcastically, "So what can you do? Any cool powers to bring to the table?"

"Control metal," Peter muttered, "Same as my Dad, which I assume you know since I heard you whispering about me earlier."

Scott shrank back a little at a vicious glare from under his fringe, stammered an apology

"Hey… I'm sorry – I wasn't saying anything bad. Just, you know… new people? We're always curious. You must be curious about all of us too, right?"

"Not really" Peter grunted.

"I'm really getting the impression you don't want to be friends, Peter"

"I wonder why that could be?" the boy mimicked his sarcastic tone. Jean could see him shaking, felt gently for the edge of his aura to try to soothe him.

"Scott…" she said softly, "Let it drop, please. Remember how it was when you were new?"

"I remember trying to be nice to people," the boy said sharply. Rose, went to get himself a tray, and sit down at another table with a few other boys. In a moment, Jubilee had made her excuses and left Jean and Peter by themselves.

"M'sorry" he mumbled, "I'm not good with people. Never have been"

Jean smiled sadly, knew that wasn't true. Delving just the smallest bit deeper, she could tell that Peter had once been an outgoing and friendly child, full of enthusiasm and love, winning people over with those big brown eyes and cute dimpled smile. She wondered what had changed, to draw so much darkness over him. Watched him scoot rice from one side of his plate to the other, prop his head on his hand, try unsuccessfully to hide that his eyes were brimming with tears. Jean handed him a napkin, got the tiniest of grateful smiles in return, watched him dab at his leaking eyes.

"Not hungry?" she asked. He shrugged, laid his fork down and pushed the plate aside.

"Not really into healthy options" he admitted.

"Then why choose it? There's pizza too – you want some?" He shook his head firmly, folded his arms protectively around himself. Hunched in even more. Jean stood, tapped very lightly on his shoulder, "Come on – let's take a walk"

He had lit a cigarette the second they were out of the front door, coughed harshly, stuck his hands back in his pockets and walked with the glowing tip casting deeper shadows under his already hooded eyes. Jean let him stay quiet a while, then said lightly

"You should quit smoking, you know. It's not good for you, and it's expensive"

Another shrug at that. Another cigarette as soon as the first was done.

"Helps me not feel hungry" he told her, "Tryin' to keep my weight down. S'not easy when all I want to do is eat junk. But yeah, I know I should. I will, one day."

He had turned up the collar of his coat, hiding even more of his face. Walked and smoked in silence for some time. Jean kept quiet too, wanting to reach for his hand, wondering if he would accept it if she did. Though it was hard to make out his real shape under his layers, she could tell he didn't need to be worrying about his size, let alone using cigarettes to stop him wanting to eat, but knew just as well that with how out of control he felt he had to exert what small measure of power he had. She did it herself – her good grades, her dedication to studying, they were all methods of self-control that comforted her when she felt crazed and filled with a power she couldn't reign in. She was lucky enough to have been able to find a method of controlling what she could that didn't harm her – that had positive benefits in fact. Peter was just not so lucky, but he was doing the exact same thing she was. The difference being, studying hard couldn't kill her or make her ill.

"What're your parents like?" he asked suddenly, "I mean… do they talk to you and stuff?"

"They're great" she said, "My Dad's a college professor, Mom's a housewife. I had a nice childhood. We talk… they're not Mutants though. I guess in that way you have the advantage"

Peter snorted dubiously, gave her a sideways glance, but no indication that he felt she'd crossed a line. Jean was glad.

"What's it like?" he asked, cupped his hands around the flame to light up again. "having a nice childhood?"

"I… don't know anything else…" she admitted. Offered him a sad smile, "Sorry."

"My sisters are cool," he said after a while, "and Mom's good – she tries hard, anyway. Three Mutant kids, must be hard on her. Really it's just my Dad that's a problem. I hardly knew him when I was a little kid and you know, that was alright. It was when he started trying to be in my life when it suited him that things got tough"

He paused for a long while. Tried to light another cigarette but found the pack empty and crushed it in his hand frustratedly, shoved it into a pocket and kicked at a loose stone.

"Don't know when I got this way" he muttered bitterly, "I don't want to be – I can be friendlier, like I am with you, but it's because you understand. Most people… I just…."

"You don't want to let them in too close," she whispered, "Because they could hurt you"

"Yeah" he said. Sniffed loudly, cuffed his nose with his sleeve. Jean was surprised when she felt cold fingers slip gently into her hand, but grasped them lightly. Walked on with him until they had reached the approach to the school again. Stopped, and turned to him.

"Peter, I will help you all I can, I promise" she said earnestly, squeezed his fingers, "I know you can't do this by yourself. But you have to promise me you'll try to get well too. If you're physically sick, this is going to be so much harder"

"I know" he said miserably, averted his eyes from hers, "I'm trying, honestly. It's just hard you know? I've kept things inside so long… I never talked to anybody like this. It's going to take time"

"It will. But when you get there, you'll feel so much better, believe me" she smiled softly, "Now go get a good night's rest. I'm going to take you to the training room tomorrow morning. Hope you like exercise because you'll get getting plenty of it."

"Love it" he lied. He hated exercise these days, finding himself dizzy and out of breath far too quickly for it to be enjoyable, "Goodnight, Jean"

"Goodnight"

She paused, hesitated on the verge of giving him another hug. Felt softly for permission and found bright spots of pain around his ribs that he wouldn't enjoy being squeezed on. Contented herself with gentle pressure on his hand before she had released it and parted from him.

Peter didn't sleep well. Tried hard to settle down and think of the training he had ahead of him, of the brightness of having Jean in his life, of the possibility of even having friends here if he could only stop acting like such a jackass toward people, lashing out at them before they even had a chance to get near. Pulled the blankets tightly around him but couldn't drift off, tossed and turned for an hour or two before he had thrown the covers off and padded into the little bathroom. It wasn't really lying to say to Jean that he was trying to stop the habit of shoving food down his throat until he had to be sick to feel better, or that he hadn't done that for a couple of months. That was true – half true, anyway. The fact remained though that when he felt like he did now, full of boiling feelings and pain and anger, it felt like such a relief to purge even though he'd barely eaten all day. It hurt more, the way he'd been doing this lately, but the relief was the same. Finally he'd crawled back under the covers, curled into a tight ball, his throat burning and a searing pain under his diaphragm, but feeling better and lighter and somehow able to sleep. Knew he'd wake up tomorrow still feeling sick and with his forcibly emptied stomach protesting at him, fresh bruises forming on his ribs, that sore patch on the knuckles of his first two fingers throbbing, but better for all that. Less crazy, more steady, good enough to face another day at least.

He wished he was like his little sister, who lived on high-energy junk and was as slender as a reed because of her Mutation. Wished he'd been born like that, so that he could at least make himself feel better with food and not feel so disgusted and guilty afterward. Wished that like Lorna, he could get through life with the friendly and sunny air he'd once shared with her, could outrun problems like she could and find freedom from the crushing blackness. Wished she was here now to say something dumb and ill-thought-out and make him laugh the way she always could do. Even if Lorna didn't know the half of the things that bothered Peter, she still always knew how to help, was smart and quick and witty and could always comfort him. She had her own problems, sure – a mind as crazy fast as hers got bored far too easily, and she got in trouble almost as much as he did – but she knew how to put them aside for her brother. She didn't know he made himself sick, but she knew he cried himself to sleep more often than not, that he smoked too much and got hold of cheap booze to numb himself out, that he never felt like he was worth spit to anyone but her and his twin sister and mother. She even knew about the little blue tablets he stashed in a film canister in his sock drawer, three of which he had now gotten out, focussed on the relief they would bring rather than the act of crushing them up into powder, working them into even lines, rolling a ten-dollar bill into a tube. The powder felt harsh and burning on his sore throat, pinching his nose closed and swiping at his watering eyes, finally feeling the drifting sensation of peace that he sought.

Tomorrow he'd stop all this. Wouldn't buy another pack of cigarettes, wouldn't stick his fingers down his throat, wouldn't drug himself to sleep. Might even try going for a run, the way he used to enjoy when he was younger. Would keep his promise to Jean and pray that she could help him, would really try to help himself. Knew that those promises were easy to make to yourself when you were drifting off in a haze, and much harder to keep when you woke up and found that the world and everything in it was still there.


	6. Chapter 5

5

Everything hurt. From the press of unwelcome light on his closed eyelids to the pounding headache and dry, parched throat, to the ball of heavy pain in his guts and the strained, bruised ribs. Even his legs hurt, though he didn't know why. Most of all, the insistent knocking at his door was hurting his ears. He groaned as he pulled himself upright, slurred for the person at the door to wait, wrapped a thick bathrobe around him before he had pulled the door open and squinted out.

"Good Morning" Jean said brightly, "can I come in?"

He thought about refusing. Of telling her to go away, that this wasn't a good morning at all, that mostly he just wanted to crawl back under his blanket and snort some more sleepers and make everything go away and stop hurting. Instead he stood aside, motioned her in. She set the tray she was carrying down on his desk, turned to him with another bright, warm smile. Even feeling like he was, that smile was like sunshine on his face. She took a seat at his desk, watched him slink back and thump down heavily on the edge of the bed, drag a hand through his hair, noticed he was shaking and pale this morning.

"Didn't sleep well?" she asked, poured them both a cup of coffee, handed his to him. He accepted it with a grateful smile, shrugged lightly

"Okay I guess, just not really a morning person"

Jean raised an eyebrow at him curiously, watched him sip his coffee, rub his puffy eyes

"Yes you are" she said quietly, "you like the mornings, when it's quiet – just like I do. But it's hard to shake off a couple of tranqs, I guess"

He choked a little on his coffee, set it aside and coughed for a long time before he had given her a wide-eyed, bewildered look, wiped at his nose just in case there were traces of powder there. She only smiled a little sadly

"I'm telepathic, remember?" she told him, "You're drugged, your mind is all soupy and easy to spill. No more crap today, Peter. I'm done being gentle with you"

"Okay…" he said in a small voice. Finished his coffee, and was about to ask her to pour another for him when he had grimaced in pain and got up quickly

"What's wrong?" she asked, "Peter?" he waved her away, locked the bathroom door behind him. Emerged a couple of minutes later sweating and with bloodshot eyes. Sat down again, arms folded hard against his churning stomach.

"Sorry," he gasped, "happens sometimes. I'm fine"

"You're not" she said sharply, "You're sick, and you'll get sicker. Here" She held out a plate to him, containing a couple of slices of toast and a banana, gave him a severe look as he had just groaned and turned away from her. "Peter, we're not leaving this room until you finish it. We're training today, you need food. Come on, it'll make you feel better. Don't make me force you"

Reluctantly he took the plate from her. It felt hard to swallow, with his sore swollen throat, but he'd managed, laid the plate aside and sat breathing deeply for a moment before Jean had tossed a set of comfortable-looking black sweats at him.

"Go get changed" she said, though her tone was a little softer now, "I had to guess at your size, they might be a little big"

They weren't, they were exactly right. When he had emerged and finally managed to drag his eyes up off the floor to look at her, Jean was giving him a strange look of admiration. Having finally parted him from his baggy clothes, she could see now that he was in pretty good shape, broad in the shoulder and long-legged, strangely imposing even in sweatpants. She rose and stepped across, unthinkingly reached to brush his hair away from his eyes. Peter flinched, but allowed it, met her searching icy gaze and saw no judgement there.

"We usually wear combat suits," she told him, "but I thought this would be easier for you today. Do you have a hairband? I can lend you one if not"

"Long as it's not pink and frilly, that'd be great" he smiled despite himself, "I never tie it back, I don't have any"

"Do I look like a pink and frilly girl?" she asked, offered him an elastic pulled from her wrist, and when he had only looked awkward for a moment finally reached and scooped his hair back for him, tied it into a messy pony-tail with practiced movements. Realised only when she was done that she had stepped in so close to do so that their bodies were almost touching. Up close, those lips were even lovelier, though a little dry they looked soft and suddenly weirdly tempting. She flushed slightly, cleared her throat and stepped back.

"Sorry… I .."

"It's okay" he told her, "thanks"

"Training room?"

"Uh, yeah…" another strange half-smile, then a guilty, downcast look "Jean? I lied to you. I'm sorry"

"I know" she said simply, "Try not to do it again"

The training room was vast, Peter thought it must take up the entire basement of the huge mansion, stretching off into the distance with electric striplights flashing on one by one to illuminate it. He looked around him, took it all in, spotted a large mirror up on one wall too high for anyone to see themselves in and frowned.

"Someone behind that watching?" he asked her, indicated the mirror. She grinned, nodded

"Professor Xavier likes to observe the training. Give him a wave"

Peter obliged, jumped when he heard a tannoy click on and the Professor's voice boom around the huge space.

"Good Morning Peter, how do you like the Danger Room?" he asked. The boy frowned

"Danger Room?" he replied dubiously, "Why's it called that?"

"You'll see" the Professor's voice replied, "Jean, how about an obstacle warm-up?"

The tannoy clicked off, and Peter jumped again as a grinding noise commenced, panels of the walls gliding away and several large sheets of metal sliding into place, creating a maze in the room.

"This is the simplest configuration," Jean told him, started walking toward the first wall, "There are obstacles inside – we can tailor them to anybody's gifts, so for you, they'll be made of metal. All you need to do is get to the other end"

He followed, stood beside her looking into what seemed to be an empty corridor

"I don't see any –" he flinched and stepped back suddenly as two enormous metal jaws emerged from the walls of the corridor and snapped together, retracting and gnashing again, "….obstacles"

So *that* was why it was called the Danger Room.

Jean had stayed by his side for the entire run, helped him on occasion when he had panicked and been unable to exert enough kinetic force to get them through jaws or past swinging blades – dull, but heavy enough to hurt nonetheless. Finally entering what she said was the last corridor of the maze. He had learned by now that just because it looked empty didn't mean it was safe. Sure enough, a hatch soon opened in the far wall and disgorged a large metal sphere that bore down on them with frightening rapidity.

"Jean!" he yelled, terrified, "I can't – that's too big, I can't!"

"You can!" she yelled back, "Use the pain, Peter! Grab it, and push it back – use all the hurt you've ever felt, you can do this!"

Biting his lip at the encroaching sphere, he dug for the pain, looked for everything he had ever pushed back into his mind and tried to numb and forget, brought it screaming to the surface, stretched out both hands and pushed with all the force of every stinging slap and every belittling word he'd ever dealt with. The sphere began to roll away, he pushed harder, dredged up yet more anguish from the depths of his heart, threw it with all his strength until the sphere had rolled back into the hatch, which closed after it. Fell to his knees exhausted and panting for breath.

"Very good" the Professor's voice boomed out, "Exit the maze please, we'll try the next configuration"

"Aww c'mon!" Peter groaned, "At least let me get my breath back!"

"Told you you need to quit smoking" Jean smirked at him, held out a hand to help him to his feet and to the exit.

In all, they had been through four configurations of the maze, each narrower and more filled with hazards that the last, before Peter had held up both hands to the large mirror, shook his head

"Enough, dude. Time Out" he shouted to the unseen watcher, "I'm fried, I need a break"

This time, Jean had agreed, given a thumbs-up sign to the Professor. The panels retracted, stowing back into the walls which closed as though nothing had ever been there. Came over to take a seat beside her pupil, who was resting against a wall. He was heaving for breath, looked ashen and a little sick.

"I know what you're thinking," he gasped, "I will. I promise. Anything to make that easier"

She laughed, surprising even herself with how pleased she was. Whilst she could see the shake in his hands and the sweat matting his hair down, she could also feel the satisfaction of having accomplished what he had – a strange, alien feeling that Peter himself seemed very uncomfortable with.

"You did great" she said softly, smiled more broadly as she saw a genuine, cheeky smile in response, one that brightened his eyes with its warmth, "Really. You should be proud"

"Sure, Sure," he told her, a strange cocky tone that she hadn't heard him use before, "I know. But right now I'm mostly just exhausted"

"And hungry?" she asked, saw the smile fall a little, a small ashamed-looking nod, "C'mon then – you deserve a good lunch after you've worked so hard"

Peter hesitated, looked at the hand she held out, then smiled again and took it to get to his feet.

"Guess I do" he said quietly, "C'mon then"

They had returned to the Danger Room that afternoon. Run through another three of the harder configurations, before Peter had been too tired to carry on and begged them to stop. Allowed Jean to let him lean on her shoulder, soreness creeping into underused muscles. Sat beside her at dinner, allowed her to ward everybody else off. For once didn't feel too guilty about grabbing some fries to go with his chicken salad, hardly noticed her watching him. Let her walk him up to his room and just as she had been turning to go, suddenly said

"Will you stay?" he swallowed hard, hunched in protectively, watched her close the door and return to him, "Just for a little while? So I don't… y'know… I won't, with you here"

She had smiled so sweetly, nodded. Waited for him sat in his chair with a book until he'd taken a shower and changed. Bid him a quiet goodnight and reached with mental fingers to comb gently through the edge of his aura. Watched him settle down and toss and turn for a while until finally he had slept. Could not help but stay even after that, watching him with the frown eased out of his brow, seeming younger and less troubled when relaxed in deep sleep. Poured congratulations and pride into his sleeping mind to help ease his dreams, and finally left him only when she had been dozing off herself.

They had both slept better that night than either had in months.


	7. Chapter 6

6

A secretive, proud smile on his face, Charles watched the two young people out on the tennis court with pleasure that was hard to match, the laughing redheaded girl batting gently with one hand to send a little metal sphere zipping back, the tall silver-haired boy sending it back to her with a flick of his fingers. _Telekinetic tennis,_ he thought, _why have I never tried that?_

The change that had come over the boy in the couple of months since he can come to the school was remarkable. Though he still wore his long, wavy hair mostly across his face, he was no longer a complete stranger to a comb and seemed to be holding his head a little higher. No longer hiding himself away in the library between classes, occasionally joining the others in the common room – though he was still quiet, shy, and easily startled, and seemed at complete ease only in Jean's company. Shoulders not so hunched, eyes less shadowed and skin less pale, he seemed taller and healthier than he had been, and although he still would not be parted from his uniform of baggy black clothing, he seemed slightly less self-conscious in the combat suit they had fitted him out with now, not so inclined to hug his arms around himself protectively. A little more at ease with himself, perhaps. He even smiled a little more than he had done – even more so since Hank had helped him find a good dentist who had helped repair the chip in his front teeth and some of the damage.

Engaged in watching the contented pair, Charles nonetheless became aware of the presence behind him as soon as Erik had entered the room, strode out onto the balcony to stand behind the chair.

"He's doing very well, don't you think?" he said, heard only a huffy little noise in reply, "Come now Erik, you must see how much better he is"

"I was not aware he was ill, Charles" the other man replied drily, "Unless being chronically moody and insolent counts as an illness"

Charles sighed heavily, turned his chair to face his old friend, gave him a pitying look

"He's more than you think of him, you know" he said calmly, "You just see a rebellious teenager who wants to fight you. He's more than that"

"Yes, I know. His mother tells me he's even capable of being pleasant at times. Just apparently not towards his father. How is his training going?"

"Very well. Jean is an excellent mentor, he's gaining more control of his powers all the time"

"He's also gaining weight" Erik said, watching his son below. Charles scoffed at him

"That will do him no harm at all, I promise you. Besides he has just given up smoking – isn't that fairly usual?"

Erik only made another noncommittal grunt. Watched the pair below them for a while in silence. Peter did seem to be doing well at controlling his gift, even beginning to show off a little, trying to catch Jean out by making the sphere curve and dart around, amusing her. At last they had finished the game, come together at the net and stood chatting. Peter looked happier than he had ever seen him, something about him more settled. Though Erik had no clue of what his son had been going through, he did know a troubled mind when he saw one, and was glad that Jean had taught him a little discipline.

"Remind you of anything?" Charles teased, "A telepath and a metallokinetic, each teaching one another and learning together. Becoming better together?"

Erik smiled grimly back at him. Watched the young pair walking off together, Jean lightly pulling at his son's arm, seeming to want to persuade him into something.

"Perhaps" he conceded. Paused. "It's strange to think we were once so young too. So naiive"

"I assure you, old friend, neither Jean nor Peter are at all naiive."

Charles had retreated back into his study, leaving Erik watching from the balcony. Jean had evidently failed to persuade Peter in whatever she had wanted, leaving him standing watching her walk off. Turning to return to the mansion however, he had chanced to look up and see his father on the balcony. Erik thought of waving, but saw the ferocious scowl cloud his son's face and his quickly averted eyes, the way he quickened his pace and soon went out of view. Perhaps things were improving, but it seemed he still hadn't learned to respect his father any more.

"Do you really want him to respect you?" Charles called from inside. Erik returned to the study with him, took a seat. Steepled his fingers and regarded the Professor.

"Are you about to pronounce some great words of wisdom, Charles?" he showed his teeth in an unpleasant sharkish smile, "Do go on"

"And you wonder where Peter gets his sharp tongue from" Charles laughed lightly, "The two of you are far more alike than either of you would ever confess"

"I could take great offence to that"

"But you won't," Charles was serious now, leaning back in his chair, fixing Erik with his gaze, "Because really, you'd like to get along with Peter. You'd like to be a good father, but you feel like he won't let you. I don't need to read your mind to know that"

"The boy's a mess," Erik grunted, "That's why I brought him here, before he got himself locked up. I'd like a son I could be proud of, Charles, I was rather hoping you'd give me one"

"You can be proud of him any time you want to. You're quite right, he *is* a mess, but he's sorting things out for himself. I didn't do that, neither did Jean. Peter did it by himself, we just provided the environment where he could"

"Well I'm happy for him. Just give him back when he's clean, sober, and preferably after a haircut."

"No" Charles said simply. Erik stared at him.

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean, Erik, that I won't be 'giving him back' at all. He's seventeen, and a very mature seventeen at that. If he wants to go home, or spend his time with you, then I shall quite gladly let him. But he's not mine to give. Neither is he yours. He's not a child anymore. Don't treat him like one"

Erik didn't say another word. Rose from his chair, tight-lipped with fury, and slammed the study door behind him.

"Goodbye, Erik," Charles sighed quietly to himself, "Lovely to see you as always."


	8. Chapter 7

7

Seeking the peace of the grounds in the early morning, Jean breathed the smell of the approaching rainstorm, closed her eyes and turned her face up to feel the first few droplets on her cheeks. The wind in her ears, gentle before but now rising, was a wonderful balm after all the noisy chatter of the school, soothing her mind into a welcome and rare peace. Clad in raincoat and boots, she pulled the hood up against the thickening rain, watched the sky darken, frowned when she heard footsteps and breath behind her and turned, surprised to see her student out for a run around the grounds. He hadn't spotted her yet, should probably be heading in before he got soaked, but didn't seem to care. He was beautiful in motion, tall and strong with long legs that seemed made for running, hair scooped back from his forehead with a bandanna, headphones in his ears.

At last, he had noticed her, walking back toward the Mansion as the rain began to really pour, stopping when he reached her. His cheeks were flushed, small beads of sweat mingling with rainwater, breathing hard as he had reached her and for a moment simply stood with her. Jean wore a secretive, watchful smile, waited for him to speak, amused at the shy way his colour deepened a little at her gaze and he dropped his eyes from hers.

"You're up early," he remarked, "couldn't sleep?" She shook her head, smiled more widely

"I told you, I like being up early. I also told you that you liked it. I didn't know you ran"

"Used to. Trying to get back into it – gives me time to think. Helps me remember why I quit smoking, and all that"

"You're fast" she told him, saw the smile widen at the flattery, "It's good. It'll help you in your training"

"Pfft, you think I'm fast, you should meet my little sister!" he told her, a glance up and quickly away again, "She's a speedster. Goes like a freakin' rocket"

He hadn't noticed the heavy rain falling, soaking through his t-shirt and pulling goosebumps up on his arms, too occupied with trying so hard not to make a fool of himself in front of this lovely girl who seemed – if he wasn't mistaken – to genuinely like him. Had seemed in fact to be liking him for a while now. She noticed though, took his arm with a suddenness that sent a thrill of shock through him

"You're getting soaked, Peter – come on, get in and change" she laughed gently, led him to the door of the Mansion, up to the door of his room. His shirt was soaked. He made a face, pulled the wet fabric away from his skin, and to her shock peeled off his shirt to hang it over the nearby radiator, about to retreat to his room and grab a shower when he noticed that Jean's mouth had fallen open a little. Eyes raking down from his broad, solid shoulders and over his chest, right down to the trail of fine hair that ran from his navel to below the waistband of his sweats. Blushed even deeper, folded his arms protectively across his body

"Sorry…." He said quietly, "Half-stripping at school's probably not cool"

More than that though, he knew he never would have dared to do that two months ago. Would have been far too ashamed of himself to ever forget what he was doing and peel off a wet t-shirt in front of anybody. Would rather have frozen and dripped than show anybody his bare torso, let alone a girl like Jean.

Jean laughed at him again. It was amazing the way he could amuse her like this, still so shy under all the confident posturing he had developed, so easy to be around now.

"No, I'm sorry!" she said, "I didn't mean to stare, just… well, I always kind of wondered I suppose"

"Wondered…?"

"If all your hair was silver" she dazzled him with a smile, made him gape for a reply and find nothing coming out, finally giving her a cheesy grin, seeming to recover a little composure.

"I'll go get dressed," he told her, turned to open his door, paused, gave her a glance over his shoulder, "And by the way? Yeah, it is. _All_ of it."

This time, it was Jean who blushed and turned from him to hide it.

Had that been flirtation? That look over the shoulder, mischief lighting up his eyes, dimpled smile flashing freshly whitened teeth at her? She had already found it hard to concentrate when he was around her in his training suit, the way it clung and flexed around his body mouth-wateringly tempting, but shirtless he had been even more beautiful that she had thought. Droplets of rainwater spilling down from his long hair and running over his collarbones, arms powerfully muscled, chest broader than she had thought, and that tiny soft suggestion of roundness in his hips and belly that betrayed the fact he'd been eating properly and keeping it down. Smooth, pale skin with just that fine trail of curling silver hair that begged her eyes to dip lower still. She had resisted that, at least. Flustered by her own thoughts, she had returned to her room to change for classes, tried to dismiss the image of Peter from her mind. Could not entirely do so, finding that picture, half-turned and smiling, lingering in her thoughts like the afterimage of a bright light.

Peter leaned against the inside of the door, breathing hard no longer from the running but now from the sudden realisation of what he'd done. Astonished and terrified that he'd felt so comfortable around her that he'd taken off his shirt. And she hadn't been disgusted, hadn't felt the way he was sure she would have done. Had he imagined that, or was she actually eying him up? Actually letting her gorgeous ice-blue eyes drift down over his body as if he wasn't completely revolting to her?

The thought was almost too stupid to admit to, and he dismissed it quickly. Went to shower and dress, swiftly so he didn't have to face up to his own nakedness for too long. Though it was true that over their time training, Jean had helped him feel a lot less nervous, less threatened by everybody and more comfortable in his own skin, the dark thoughts hadn't entirely gone away. Feeling better helped too. The doctor here had been remarkably sensitive, noted the grazed knuckles and the swollen throat but said nothing, only asked if he needed any help and gave him some multivitamins, otherwise left him alone and did not try to intervene, seeing that he was slowly improving by himself. It was easier to train now, without heavy lungs making him wheeze, without the irregular heartbeat making him feel dizzy. Easier to do everything, now that he was properly nourishing his body, sleeping better without resorting to the pills too often. And he'd managed to only purge once in the last month, after going out one evening with Jean and indulging in way too much pizza for his own good. Even that had been more about feeling sick and overfull anyway, and less about feeling disgusted and guilty. He wasn't finding he needed to do that, Jean having taught him that he could harness the black well of bad feeling inside him and channel it through his power, use it to fuel metallokinetic feats instead of trying to hold it down until he couldn't anymore and had to puke it out. More than that, managing his feelings that way instead lasted much longer. Didn't keep easing his mind only until he felt hungry again, but instead felt as though he was actually getting rid of some of those feelings permanently.

More than her beauty, what she had done for him made him feel almost as if he could love her. True that the curve of her hips and the shape of her small, round breasts under her training suit made him hot under the collar, but more so the peace she had somehow managed to give him made him want to worship her. When he was around her, he could forget how scared and angry he felt. Forget his father and his own self-hatred and just be in the moment with her. She seemed to like being around him too – though she was a private girl who liked her own company, she would hang out with him more often than not, had grown comfortable with him coming to her room at odd hours just to sit and talk with her, allowed him into her personal space in a way he could see she did for nobody else. He dressed quickly, didn't think about the way his jeans felt a little snug lately, jogged down to join her for breakfast, amazed at the way he could walk into the hall and get himself a tray now without feeling too much panic.

She was sat by herself with a book open in front of her. He couldn't help but pause to admire her lifting a cup of coffee, blowing on it delicately to cool it. Those lips were so lovely, so full and pink without the need for lipstick, and for just a fleeing moment Peter felt heat creep into his cheeks thinking of where he would rather she put those lips than around her coffee cup. A second later she had looked up, noticed him. He let his hair hang over his face to hide the blush as he slid into a seat beside her. With her own hair tied back, Jean had no choice but to show the rosy flush at the sight of him, but Peter was too embarrassed to notice.

"Training this afternoon?" she asked, "After Lit finishes?"

"Sure" a little smile. Jean was more pleased every time she saw that smile now, knowing how much it represented him feeling that much better. Even the colours of his aura were calming a little, no longer stormy and confused, "Something tough, maybe."

"In the mood for a challenge?"

"Guess I am" he told her. Those dark eyes emerged to meet hers and her cheeks flushed even redder.


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N : Jean is a naughty girl and sometimes she does things that get away from me...**

8

"When you said something tough, did you mean it?" Jean asked. She had slipped into her training suit, the one that clung and laid every curve open to inspection, that he was starting to find hard to look at and keep his cool. Damn those raging teenage hormones.

"Depends what you mean by it" he said, flashed her another of those grins that he seemed to be getting good at now, "Try not to kill me, if that's what you're getting at"

"I'll try" she beamed, started to walk away from him, leaving him alone in the centre of the room, "but I'm not going to be testing your fitness so much today. Just remember, nothing you see is real, nothing can actually hurt you"

"Huh?! Jean – what –"

"There's a rack behind you. Choose your weapons, and do what you need to"

About to ask her again what was going on, he didn't have time to as with a yell of fury, a Samurai warrior in full regalia had charged from the empty shadows, blade raised to decapitate him. Peter panicked, fought it, grabbed the metal nunchuka from the rack and began to fight. As soon as the warrior had bowed, bested, and backed away to vanish, he had turned and heard the click of a pistol being cocked. A gunslinger stood behind him, Colt 44 drawn and aimed. Fending off the bullets with a wave of his hand had felt almost easy.

For what seemed like forever, the assault had continued – werewolves, vampires, a few robots, alien figures and masked killers, even a swamp creature lurching out to attack him.

"Why am I fighting the Universal Monsters again?" he yelled to Jean as he pulled back a fist and remotely wrenched the bolts from the neck of Frankenstein's creation. She laughed lightly, he felt it like a tickle on the back of his neck.

"I'm drawing them from your mind" she explained, "You might not remember, but these are all things you've been afraid of. I blame too many late night movies. Too easy for you?"

He kicked the Creature from The Black Lagoon hard in the chest, reached and sent a hail of ball-bearings at it. It vanished before it hit the ground.

"Well… maybe" he confessed, dispatched Count Dracula swiftly and almost casually, "Not so much what I'm scared of now to be honest"

"Alright…." She said dubiously, "But you asked for this, don't forget"

A lurking zombie wavered out of existence before it approached him. In its place a shadowed figure stood, perhaps ten feet tall with a long cloak hanging from its massive shoulders. The figure took a step forward with one enormous metal-soled boot. Peter swallowed hard, recognised the cruel features, was almost rooted to the spot with terror as the figure raised one hand. Immediately, everything left in the rack from knives to shuriken rose up at his command to surround Peter in a deadly cloud.

"Do what's best, Peter" he heard Jean call faintly, "that's all you have to do"

"Dad…" he whimpered, could feel his eyes prickling with tears of terror, "Don't –"

"Silence, boy!" the apparition boomed, his voice echoing around the chamber, seeming so much more solid than the other creatures as he took another step forward. The hail of weaponry drew tighter around his son, caging him in, "How dare you think you could face me? You're nothing. Never will be more than nothing"

"Please…."

The tip of a shuriken came to rest against Peter's throat. He winced, but didn't move. Took a shuddering breath

"You… " his father hissed, "You spineless, pathetic little creature. Look at yourself! How could I ever wish to call this thing my son? You're worthless, weak, fat, cowardly, and you're crying AGAIN! Always crying, as if tears solved anything! WORTHLESS!"

"I. Am. NOT!" Peter yelled. Flexed his fingers, and in a moment the cloud of metal had fallen to the floor with a clatter, "I'm none of those things!"

Unarmed, he took a step toward the figure. As it stepped back from him it seemed to shrink, until they stood face to face, his father now only the three inches taller he was in reality.

"Go away" Peter said quietly. Leaned and shoved his father hard. He vanished as he stumbled back into the darkness. Then Jean's hand was laying gently on his elbow.

"Well done" she said softly. Pulled a tissue from her belt, handed it to her pupil.

"Did I… was that right?" he sniffled. She nodded

"Exactly right." Jean told him, squeezed his arm comfortingly, "Do you see why?"

"Because I didn't hurt him?" Peter asked. The tears were starting to dry up now, but his voice still shook a little, "Like he was hurting me?"

"Like you were hurting yourself," she corrected. "I drew that from your mind too"

"He put it there in the first place" Peter drew himself up to his full height, "But I'm glad I didn't need a weapon. He's the pathetic one"

"If he's ever told a son like you half those terrible things, then yes he is" Jean told him kindly, "Enough training for today?"

Peter nodded. Followed her as she walked back to the airlock.

"I think we need a walk to clear our heads" she said, "Let's eat out tonight – get some space from the school. Sound okay?"

It sounded better than okay to him. It sounded perfect.

Walking her back to the door of her room later, Peter had the sudden urge to reach out for her, hesitated and hung back. It was one thing to train him, to hang out with him, even to walk out and share dinner with him – but surely, she couldn't want anything more? She turned as she opened her door, seemed about to move toward him herself. Noticed the strange expression on his face.

"You okay?" she asked. She was even beautiful when she knit her pretty brows in a concerned frown. He smiled weakly, pressed a hand to his belly

"Yeah.. fine. Just a little sorry for myself. Guess I should have skipped dessert. I'll… see you in the morning"

He turned to go, felt Jean's hand on his arm and glanced back at her. She was smiling sadly.

"Come in for a while" she said. The hand slid gently down his arm until it met his wrist, pulled him gently with her. Closed the door and sat with him on the bed. That weird, spiky flash had come back into his aura, concerning her. Released his wrist only to gently place a hand on his shoulder. "Lie down"

He obeyed, though she could feel bright flashes of fear and panic shudder through him, more so as she had reached over for a bottle of lotion on her nightstand

"Hope you don't mind smelling of flowers for a while" she smiled, began warming a little cream between her hands.

"Jean…." There was a little tremor in his voice, brighter flashes still as she very softly slid one finger under the edge of his t-shirt and pushed it back, "What're you doing?!"

"Making you feel better" she said softly. He flinched hard as she laid one lotion slick hand on his belly, "Without going and making yourself throw up"

"Jean, seriously…"

"Everyone eats too much from time to time" she said, didn't stop the movement of her hand, "You need to learn to deal with that. I'm helping. Consider it training"

"Really, you don't –"

"Shhhhhh" she smiled. Before long she had laid propped on her elbow beside him. Reached to stroke his aura even as her slick hand slid very gently over the firm, rounded flesh. He had to admit it felt good – weird, but good – and she didn't seem to be grossed out, which was weirder. In a few minutes, he had jumped again as her hand slid a little lower, traced firmly around the edge of his lower belly, found the sensitive skin beside his hip, stroked insistently. He could feel his cheeks burning, almost pushed her hand away, stammered out

"I'm… uh… not full down there, Jean…."

To his shock her hand slid even lower, beneath the waistband of his unbuttoned jeans. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a saucy smile

"Could have fooled me" she said. Her hand didn't stop. Peter could feel his body responding to her touch, rolled to prop himself beside her, his stomach groaned at the movement but he ignored it, far too focussed on her to think of his discomfort just now. Those lips were within his reach, beckoning him, but before he could move she had seized his own with them. She tasted sweet, like the strawberry milkshake she had been drinking, warm and soft and delicious, dropping those lips to explore the shape of his jaw with them. At least she had moved the hand that had been straying under his waistband now, placed it in the small of his back to draw him close to her body. He was still shaking, she could feel it through her even as he had lightly explored her lower back with his fingertips, involuntarily arching his hips forward into her touch.

"Is this training too?" he asked, voice low. She could see as he raised his eyes to hers that he was shot through with nerves and terror. Gave him a smile, and very lightly kissed him on the lips again.

"No," she bit her lip, held his gaze, "This is me trying you tell you that you were right"

"About what?"

"About me liking you"

He didn't return to his own room that night.


	10. Chapter 9

9

Nothing could possibly disturb the peace of a morning relaxing in the grounds, sun still warm even now that September was creeping by. Jean resting her head on Peter's chest, his arm around her, his other hand holding a book. Both feeling drowsy and almost disgustingly relaxed. The rest of school had noticed, of course, that the pair who had previously just been pupil and teacher were now way more, couldn't help but see it in the way their hands were rarely parted, the way they leaned their heads together in class. The way they would say with a smile what others would take whole paragraphs to convey. Most had been happy for them – to see the quiet, bookish girl and the shy, nervy boy finding peace in one another's company. A few had cursed missing their chance, though Peter would never have believed that even in the state he'd been when he arrived, a few of the girls at the school had been sighing over him ever since he enrolled.

In a matter of microseconds, the undisturbable peace had been shattered, Jean letting out a shocked little scream as something had thumped down on Peter's lap, sending the book flying and Jean pulling away in a hurry, pushing away her disarranged hair to find that it had been not something, but someone. A slender, green haired girl of about thirteen who had wrapped her arms around Peter's neck and was squeezing him until he had thumped on her back, starting to lose oxygen.

"And what the hell are you doing here, Roadrunner?" he laughed. The girl didn't move off his lap, just grinned and exclaimed

"Meep-Meep!"

"Cute," he deadpanned, "But seriously, shouldn't you be in school?"

" _Omigawd_ how boring is school though?!" the girl rolled her eyes, seemed at last to notice Jean, and stuck out a hand, chirruping "Hi! I'm Lorna! Somehow this miserable Goth is my big brother, who the heck are you?"

"I'm Jean…" she said, couldn't help smiling as the little hand pumped her furiously. She shook it out when Lorna dropped it, the girl had some grip, "Peter is my pupil here"

"Ooooooohhhhhhhh so *you're* Jean!" she girl said, dark eyes widening in understanding, a naughty grin spreading across her face

"Lorna…." Peter growled in warning. She paid no mind

"He is just _nuts_ over you, you know" Lorna stage-whispered to Jean, "Like, really, he – OW!"

She gave Peter a look as he tugged hard on her hair. Finally got up off his lap and allowed him to rise to his feet, offering Jean a hand to come with him. To her surprised, Lorna had grabbed a hand from each of them and began pulling them behind her at a fast clip as she had begun walking toward the Academy, chattering rapidly as she went

"So I was sat in history class thinking I wonder what could be more interesting than sitting here listing to Ms Thomson go on and on and ON about stuff that happened about a billion years ago and I thought I know! I could go see my big bro over in Westchester! I bet he'd be really glad to see me, and I could even take him some Twinkies 'cause I'm not sure if they even have them on this coast but I ate them, I'm sorry, but I was kinda hungry, sure you understand and it turns out they DO have them anyway so I got some more but I ate those too, sorry, and –"

"Whoah… hold on – don't you live in Washington?" Jean asked, "How did you get here?"

"She ran" Peter said wearily, rubbed his eyes with his free hand. Jean gave him a disbelieving look, "No, really"

"Yeah took about three quarters of an hour, but I was going kinda easy could have done it faster but –"

"Hey, Roadrunner? Could you maybe tone it down a little?"

She grinned again, dropped their hands and in a flash had wrapped both her arms and legs around Peter's body, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing happily

"I miss you sooooooo much, you know" she said. Planted a kiss on his cheek before jumping down and continuing to march them both forward. "Is it better here for you? Mom says you were going to Juvie if you didn't come here"

"Reform School, actually. But yes" he glanced at Jean, smiled happily himself, "It's lots better. How's Mom and Wanda?"

"They miss you too, they – Oh. My. Word is that where you two live?! This is AMAZING!"

In a flash they had been stood alone, the strong breeze left in Lorna's wake dying down. Peter gave Jean an apologetic look.

"So, that's my little sister. Uncontrollable cake-seeking missile that she is, I love her very much. Hey Jean? Are you alright?"

The girl looked pale, a little nauseated, rubbing her temple. Nodded gently and groaned

"Fine… I just… I never met a speedster before. Her mind's like a tornado, I'm just a little disoriented, I'll be okay in a minute"

"She has that effect on people," Peter told her, gently put an arm around her waist to walk her in, "I'd say you'll get used to her, but you never really do"

"I'm so glad you aren't like that" Jean sighed.

"I know, right? Just imagine what a walking disaster I'd be with all that energy. And I don't even _like_ Twinkies"

"Maybe you would, if you were like Lorna?" she chided, accompanied him to find out where his errant sibling had raced off to and make sure she wasn't in any trouble. In all honestly, Peter knew that he had very little hope of finding Lorna before she found trouble, but as it had transpired, trouble had very swiftly found him. Turning a corner, seeking his sister, he had instead come face to face with Erik. With nowhere to turn and no way to pretend he hadn't seen him, Peter had dropped his eyes to the ground and mumbled

"Morning, Dad"

"Good morning, Peter. Miss Grey." Erik intoned, "Perhaps I'm seeing things, but is your insane little sister in the building?"

"Ummm, yeah… she's.."

"Speak up, boy"

"She came to visit" Peter said, more clearly though without raising his eyes from the floor, "She ran off, we were looking for her"

"And helloooooooo Daddy!" Lorna crowed, weaving elegantly around Erik to stand between himself and Peter, coming from out of nowhere as she always did, "How's things? Your entry for Absentee Father of The Year going well?"

"You don't amuse me, Lorna"

"Guess it must be, since Peter never mentions you like _At All_ when he calls. Which he does, incidentally, like about five hundred times more often than you do"

"Lorna…" Peter said quietly, nervously, "Thin ice, sis…."

"So you wanna take us out?" she said brightly, "I'm starving, and Peter's always hungry, c'mon let's go. It'll be Quality Bonding Time"

"I have work to do," Erik replied stonily, "Amuse yourselves. Have a nice visit"

"Hey, hey! Whoah there!" Lorna had zipped in front of him as he turned, grabbed a handful of his jacket to pull him back around. Jean marvelled at how strong the girl must be, "I just came all the way across the country, at least partly to see you, and you're just gonna flounce off on me? Nice, Dad. Very caring"

Peter saw Erik's face cloud angrily, saw him raise a hand. Knew Lorna could move fast enough to avoid him but nonetheless stretched out one hand and pushed. A poker jumped from a nearby fireplace and wrapped itself tightly around Erik's raised arm, embedding itself in the wood-panelled wall and leaving him firmly stuck. The man gazed in disbelief at his son, finally having raised his eyes and glaring with a ferocity that matched his own.

"Don't you ever raise a hand to her again" he said softly, "Or to Mom, or Wanda, or me"

"Or you'll do what?" Erik spat, "Cry? Hide in your room?"

The twisted fire-poker squealed as it wrapped a little tighter, Erik winced satisfyingly.

"No. I'll just make sure you never get to be our father even on those rare occasions you feel like it" Peter told him evenly, "You do realise you can pull yourself out of that, right?"

Peter froze as the poker unbent itself with a screech of protesting metal, saw it spear out toward him and closed his eyes. When nothing happened, he had opened them to find both Lorna and Jean standing in front of him. Lorna was holding the poker, tapped it once against her hand before she had thrown it onto the carpet at her father's feet, turned and said quietly.

"Let's go. I'm hungry"

Jean had turned with her, took Peter's arm. None of the three had looked back.

"I see Dad's still a huge jerk" Lorna muttered once they were out of earshot, "Nice moves though, Bro, I think you had him worried"

"Lorna," he sighed, "You really need to not wind him up like that. I know you can dodge and all, but when you make him mad, the rest of us get it too"

"I know, I know…." The girl said, grabbed both of their hands again as she had spotted a burger joint, "But he's such a…. argh, I don't even have a word! But he totally is one! A HUGE one!"

"He sure is that" Jean agreed quietly. Peter wondered what terrible word she was filling in the blank with. For a studious girl like her, Jean had a filthy mind – as he had come to realise over the past three months. They had taken a seat and ordered, Peter watching his little sister fidget and look around her with amusement. He really had missed the little ball of energy hugely.

"Are you Peter's girlfriend yet?" she said suddenly to Jean, "I hope so, otherwise I just put my foot in it, didn't I?"

To his relief, Jean laughed, reached for his hand where it rested on the table. Gave him a bright smile

"I suppose I am" she said. He blushed – he still couldn't help that reaction, whenever he thought of his luck at having someone like her. The food had arrived quickly, Lorna tearing into a chicken sandwich about the size of her own head with enthusiasm. Paused for a second before she had started wolfing down the plateful of fries. Jean couldn't help but stare.

"Sorry…" she said, a little embarrassed, "I'm kind of a pig, I know. 'Scuse me"

"It's fine, really I just.. wow"

"High speed everything, including her metabolism," Peter smirked, "Not pretending I'm not jealous. Girl eats like a champ and never puts on an ounce"

Lorna beamed at him, licked ketchup from her fingers, paused between slurps of her shake to ask

"So really, are you seeing much of Dad?"

"We avoid each other" Peter said, stirred his juice with a straw, "Guess you can imagine why"

"Yeah he seems worse than ever. No offense if you two get on, Jean, but Dad's kind of the biggest…. The biggest going. Used to leather me until I got quick enough to dodge it, just as bad with our Mom and Peter's twin Sis, but you always got the worst of it, didn't you Bro?"

"Uh.. well…"

"It was all 'man up!' and 'why can't you?' and 'You're the man of the family!' and all that, I mean really? Isn't HE supposed to be the man of the family?!"

"Sis, please…" Peter said quietly, "Jean doesn't need to hear this"

"Why not?" the girl asked, turned those large dark eyes full-force on Jean, "It's real life, right?"

"You're very grown-up for thirteen," Jean told her. Lorna shrugged in a way eerily reminiscent of her brother, started stealing the fries he had left on his plate. He pushed it over to her.

"Guess I had to be" she said, shoved more fries in, "Easier that way."

She had stayed into the early afternoon, before regretfully telling them that she should probably get home in time for the end of school. Their mother would, in her words 'wig out' if she wasn't home at her usual time. She didn't seem overly concerned about a call from the truant officer, but she didn't want to upset their Mom. A fond hug for Jean, and another four-limbed squeeze for her brother before she had turned to go, pausing just before she did and saying

"If I forgot to mention it, Big Bro, you're looking awesome" she smiled, poked him gently in the gut, "Like, totally hench. Mom would be pleased to see you looking well, you know we always worried about you"

"Thanks Roadrunner," he smiled, leaned to kiss her softly on the cheek, "Tell her I'm feeling better too. And that I love her and Wanda"

"Can I tell her you've got a really pretty girlfriend?"

"Umm, do you have to? I'd like to –"

"Didn't hear you, gotta go fast – bye!"

She was gone in a breathtaking streak of green, Jean staring after her until she had laughed and turned to her pupil, still smiling

"She's cute. What does 'hench' mean?"

"I have no idea what half the stuff she come out with means" Peter admitted with a sigh, "But I assume it's a good thing"

"I'll ask Jubilee, she'll know"

They had barely taken two steps before Jean had paused, laid two fingers gently to her temple, Peter frowned and took her other hand

"Headache?" he asked, concerned. She shook her head, gave him a look that he couldn't quite fathom.

"Professor Xavier" she said, "He has a message. From your father. He wants you to meet him in his study"

"Great" Peter muttered, "If I'm not back in an hour, send Dr McCoy, okay?"


	11. Chapter 10

10

Pausing outside the heavy door, Peter closed his eyes a moment and took a few deep, calming breaths. Wished the hipflask in his jacket pocket was not empty, steeled his nerves without its aid and knocked. His throat felt like someone had shoved a golf-ball down it, mouth desert-dry. Entering as he was told and closing the door quietly behind him, he made an effort to stand straight, square his shoulders, hold his head up. Not slouch into that huddled pose of defence that had become habitual to him, and which he was still trying to break out of. His father was seated at his desk, did not speak, regarded him with a top-to-toe flick of his eyes.

"Am I in trouble?" Peter asked. Saw a faint smirk cross his father's lips. He shook his head.

"No, boy."

"Oh," Peter said, frowned, "That's weird… because you _really_ are"

"What are you –"

"Why am I here?" Peter demanded, interrupting him, strode forward to stand in front of the desk. Kept his eyes evenly fixed on Erik's face and refused to allow himself to flinch, "Because of what I did earlier? Because of Lorna? Why?"

"Because you are my son, and I wish to appraise your progress since enrolling here" Erik replied smoothly. "If this morning's demonstration was anything to go by, you seem to be making steps in the right direction"

Peter grinned, then laughed outright at him. Couldn't keep it under control for a minute or so until he had finally been a little sobered by his father demanding

"And what might I ask is so hilarious?"

"Ohh.. nothing" Peter sighed, grinned again, "Just you. So concerned when it looks like I might have something useful to you, and you don't give a damn about anything else"

"That's untrue. I can see you've improved in other areas"

"You don't even know how I was when I got here" the smile had gone now, replaced with a sneer. He fished in his pocket, brought out the little film canister and rattled it at Erik "Let's see – These are Valium. Our family doc gave me them first, I was having panic attacks, they really hit the spot so I bought them on the street after he quit prescribing them. You did that to me. And this? It's empty now, but I usually had a fifth of vodka on me most of the time, you did that too. Sometimes, you made me so mad that only getting blind drunk would help"

"I didn't –"

"And this of course!" he held out the hand with the thick scarred weal across the knuckles, "Know how this happened? Those are from my teeth. You bullied me about being lazy, you made me feel so worthless and empty that I tried to fill that up with food, but then I remembered all the times you told me 'don't eat that you'll get fat' and I started sticking my fingers down my throat, Dad. Because of you. Because of what you did to me. So yeah, I know I was a mess when I got here. I know I wasn't healthy or in control or fit, or anything you wanted. But you made me that way"

"Finished?" Erik asked in a tone so icy it sent a shiver down Peter's spine.

"Hardly even started, man. But you go ahead. Appraise my progress, belittle me and tell me how far I still have to go. I've _so_ missed it"

Temper rising, Erik got to his feet, lifted a hand and raised a letter opener from his desk, sent it flying toward his son, but paled in horror as it stopped, turned in mid-air, slowly came to rest with its point just against his left temple.

"You ever heard of Walter Freeman?" Peter asked, "Won a Nobel Prize – totally cuckoo, obviously. He invented this procedure though"

"The lobotomy" Erik said quietly, "Yes, I know"

"Exactly, man!" Peter snapped his fingers, "Apparently, it could change people's whole personalities. Make them kinder and more docile. Or it could flat-out kill them or make them a vegetable. You want to find out which will happen to you?"

Erik considered trying to move the blade away from his head, but could tell that his son's strength and speed would catch it and drive it in before he could get it a safe distance away. Glanced around for something else to use to defend himself. Wet his dry lips and said

"You wouldn't do that to your father, Peter"

The boy smiled sadly, shook his head.

"You're right. But you've never been much of a father, have you?" he let the letter-opener drop gently back onto the desk, saw relief flood over Erik's face, "How's my progress?"

"Excellent" Erik whispered, "Quite beyond what I expected"

Peter nodded. Scooped the canister up off the desk and returned it to his pocket. His voice was very quiet, but even and strong as he said

"The next time you summon me up here, it had better be because you want to spend time with me, or do Dad stuff, or give me a cuddly toy or take me out to lunch or something. You wanna be my father? Start acting like it. And don't you dare dismiss your daughter like that ever again. She's just a little girl, and you know she's high-strung"

He turned, about to reach for the door handle before Erik had called to him

"Peter…." He paused, "I'm sorry"

His son smiled sadly again, reached for the handle, turned slightly over his shoulder and replied

"You know, it's sad that I have to hold a knife to your head before I really feel like you mean that," he opened the door, "And for the record, I wouldn't do that to anybody, but especially not my father."

He closed the door just as quietly behind him.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N : Oh how I've hated writing a nasty Magneto... but it made a change, and I hoped you enjoyed him anyway. I leave you with a little bit of hope, and a promise that the next time you see Erik it will be with the main-universe Peter and he'll be back to his loving Papa-Bear self. Thanks for all the reads and reviews, as always.**

11

By the time autumn had truly set in, the grounds had been transformed into a blanket of golden and red leaves. Many of the students could be seen out there kicking up the fallen gown, laughing happily, forgetting whatever cares they may have to enjoy themselves in the crisp air. Peter watched them, smiled. Thought about joining them when he'd finished his homework. Startled out of his thoughts by a knock on his door, laying his pen aside, he didn't even have time to open it before he had been bowled backwards onto his bed, sharp little knees digging into his thighs as Lorna had put the Death Squeeze on him before releasing him breathless and hauling him back to his feet.

"Do you have to do that?" he asked, though without a trace of irritation, "I'm gonna have bruises now"

"Sorry…" she said, putting on her most wide-eyed contrite look, "Just missed you. Big Bro hugs are the best kind"

He grinned, bent and scooped her up in his arms for another cuddle, swung her round and made her squeal with delight.

"I missed you too, Roadrunner" he told her softly, setting her down, "Skipping school again?"

"Nope! We all came to see you, but…" she paused, glanced out of the door, "I guess Mom and Wanda are lagging behind a little. C'mon, let's go find them!"

They hadn't had to go far, seeing the two women ascending the staircase at the end of his corridor. Both had stopped, stared, before his twin sister doubled her pace and meet him in at the top, beaming with delight. Wanda had cut her hair short since he last saw her – it looked good. She too had flung her arms around him and squeezed, leaving Peter wondering for a moment how all the women in his family had developed such strength in their arms that they could practically crack his ribs with a hug. Drawing away from him at last, grinning widely before dropping into a mock-serious expression

"Getting into many fights?" she asked, "How much time are you spending in the Principle's office now?"

Peter laughed, messed her cropped hair mischeviously

"We don't have a Principle. We've got the Professor – and none, actually"

"You fixed your teeth!" she exclaimed, "Now I can't call you Chipmunk anymore!"

"You can still call me whatever you like," he smiled, "Troll"

"Where's my hug then?" Magda asked softly. She had descended the staircase again, and was waiting in the lower hallway watching her children make a fuss over one another. Watched a broad, happy smile she hadn't seen in years creep over her son's face as he jogged down the stairs and threw his arms around her, surprised to find tears springing up in his mother's eyes when he had released her. Frowned a little at her

"You okay, Mom?"

"I'm fine, sweetheart" she sniffed, wiped her eyes before she had returned her hands to rest at his waist, loved the way he didn't flinch away from it anymore, "Just look at you…. What happened to my scrawny little boy?"

He blushed, allowed her to squeeze him again, realised she had a point – and it must be more obvious than ever now after Jean had taken him shopping for some new clothes and persuaded him into his first ever pair of drainpipe jeans. He'd been self-conscious of course, but soon realised that he liked the way they clung around the new muscle in his legs. So did everyone else it seemed, having noticed a few admiring stares that never failed to embarrass him lately. He still wouldn't quite be parted from his loose shirts yet, but that time was coming he knew, with the sleeves starting to get tight around his growing biceps.

"Guess I am getting kinda big" he said softly

"In all the right places, honey. You look great. Really healthy and fit – I'm proud of you"

"OK, so we're all happy he's not living on dry crackers anymore – can we go get some lunch now?" Lorna whined, but threw him a cheeky wink, "Seriously, I'm dying of hunger. Let's move"

Peter laughed at her, allowed Wanda to slip an arm around him, paused just before he had begun to lead them out, and said

"There is someone I'd like you to meet first though" he blushed a little at his mother's enquiring look. Wanda squeezed him a little too hard

"Ahh yes, Lorna tells us I'm not the only pretty redhead in your life now!" she cooed. He shot a look at his bigmouthed little sister, who shrugged innocently.

"She'll be in the library," Peter told them, "I'm sure she'll join us."

Magda had adored Jean instantly, welcomed her into the arms of her family with a hug and a kiss on the cheek which made the young girl colour suddenly but grin nonetheless. Plied her with questions about the school, her son's training, her own family, everything under the sun until Peter had laughed and said

"Mom, come on – don't give her the Third Degree!"

"It's fine, Peter" Jean said softly. Marvelled at the way just meeting his eyes still made her shiver a little, "I don't mind"

"Get used to it," Wanda told her with a wink, "Lorna gets her motor-mouth from Mom. Honestly I don't know how Peter turned out so quiet, maybe he could never get a word in edgeways"

Jean laughed at her, liked them all so much already. Though they were on the surface so different from her pupil, she had soon seen that they had banded together so tightly and formed such a close network of mutual support that they were in a way just the same as him. Strong underneath, for all their carefree chatter, with cores of vulnerable softness that they each covered in their own ways. She could see the looks they were giving him too – admiring, wondering looks at the gradual change in him that had resulted in this handsome boy who held his head up high and now habitually tucked that long silky hair behind his ears, showing off the high cheekbones that were less prominent and glittering dark eyes that were no longer puffy and shadowed. Reached for his hand on the table and squeezed it tightly, gave him an amused look as he had floated the coffee pot over to her cup

"Refill, hon?" he asked with a grin, she nodded

"You're showing off," she told him softly. "I like it"

"Speaking of metal-manipulating show-offs" Lorna said, licked ice-cream from her spoon, "How's King Jerk himself? Still avoiding each other?"

Peter and Jean shared a look, before the boy had quietly said

"Not really. I mean we're not exactly hanging out, but he's been kind of civil the last few times I ran into him. I think we sort of… get each other"

"What he means is that he gave him a piece of his mind about being the worst father in history" Jean stirred her coffee, tapped the spoon and remotely went to stir Peter's too, "And now he's a little less of a jerk"

"Really?!" Wanda said in disbelief, reached to gently lay a hand on Peter and Jean's, "You stood up to him?"

"I… well, kind of…" Peter admitted, allowed a small proud smile, "I think he gets that he can't pick me up and put me down and expect me to be his dutiful son."

"Peter has stronger control over his metallokinesis than him" Jean explained, "It shouldn't have taken that to impress him, but I guess the tables are turned now. Erik isn't the powerful one anymore"

"Wow…." Wanda said softly, "Think you can get him off our backs too, Bro?"

"I can try" Peter told her. Saw that proud little smile returned.

The women had left him later, regretting they couldn't stay longer, with more rib-cracking squeezes and encouragement to keep doing whatever he was doing that had him looking so well, kisses for both Jean and himself and extracted promises to come to Washington for Thanksgiving. Parted from them, Jean had walked arm in arm with him back to his room. Paused at his door to slip her arms around his waist, pull him in for a gentle hug and to capture his lips with her own.

"I need to study," she said softly, "Science finals tomorrow… but after that, well…"

"Is 'well' going to involve ice cream and handcuffs again?" he asked with a saucy smirk, "Because I only just changed my sheets"

"My room then" she said, reached to grab a double handful of his butt and squeeze, "Your family are nice, Peter. Most of them anyway"

"I'm working on the rest" he promised, held her tightly and indulged himself in another lingering kiss before letting her go. As his door swung open, he frowned as he spotted a brown teddy-bear sitting on his freshly-made bed, then laughed to himself. Instead of sitting down to study, he had closed the door again and walked up to his father's room, hoping he wouldn't need a letter-opener to get him to accept his thanks.


End file.
